


blue moon

by cenli



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (the character death is SUPER minor and is hardly mentioned), Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Child Neglect, Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Relationship Study, hq rare pair weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4474661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cenli/pseuds/cenli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When home is too much they find each other there, on that hill. They lie on wet grass while Tobio traces constellations in the sky and Kei studies the way star-shine makes sad blue eyes seem beautiful.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	blue moon

**Author's Note:**

> *rolls into rarepair weekend two days late with starbucks*
> 
> sad tsukikages make me feel some kind of way

_Tobio’s eyes are blue, Kei knows, but under moonlight they’re calm ocean tides: waves tipped silver, water lapping at lashes too long and soft for someone so stilted in speech._

_But what Tobio lacks in articulation he makes up for in perception. In the past three years he’s learned how to read Kei like a well-executed volleyball play. He knows what each wrinkled brow and fiddle of fingers means; he knows enough that Kei only has to glance at his toes for Tobio to come over, showing his understanding in a water bottle passed with careful hands,_ ‘are you alright?’ _spelled out in the too-long lingering of a congratulatory clap on the shoulder after a smooth practice._

 _Kei has learned, too, that shrugging off Tobio’s hand is useless (for all his perceptiveness, Tobio is stubborn when he knows what he’s doing is right), so_ ‘I’m fine’ _is said with a nod, and_ ‘thank you’ _is so faint it’s almost missed in Kei letting his fingers press momentarily against Tobio’s forearm on his way to the front of the net._

 

\---

 

Hinata had left earlier than usual to babysit his sister, shooting a wistful glance at where Kageyama was practicing serves. (He wasn’t _‘Tobio.’_ Not yet.) Kei could see agitation in how Kageyama was hitting the ball too far; in how he caught himself snapping at a first year blocker for not jumping high enough; in how he relieved Ennoshita of his keys and promised to lock up when he was done.

Kei shakes off Yamaguchi’s puzzled look and taps Kageyama on the shoulder, causing him to spin around and nearly drop his volleyball.

“Throw me a quick, Highness.”

Kageyama blinks at him, then something like gratitude flashes in his eyes, gone so fast Kei isn’t sure if it’s imagined.

Kei stays and spikes for Kageyama and watches him wipe sweat from his chin with the bottom of his shirt.

Watches his fingers start to shake from continuous tossing, the accuracy of his quicks fading with the daylight.

Watches as Kageyama tries to blink the frustrated tears out of his eyes.

Kei tugs him toward the door, hands him a towel in lieu of tissues, and walks with him while the night makes the world navy-blue and silver.

Kageyama stops suddenly, after twenty minutes of not-quite-comfortable silence, next to the park Kei passed by every day.

“My house is on this street.”

“Mine is two blocks down, on the other side.”

“You lived this close the whole time?”

Kei shrugs, tugging headphones over his ears. “We’ve never walked together before.”

 

Three days later Kageyama glares at the floor near Kei’s feet and asks if he wants to stay behind and practice again, and Kei complies—though he’s not sure why.

Yamaguchi overhears and seems to understand more than Kei does, because he lures Hinata away with the promise of pork buns, and Ennoshita shrugs and hands the keys over to Kageyama. (Because contrary to last year, Kageyama is reliable now—is worthy of trust.)

(It probably helps that Kei is also staying: something Kei informs Kageyama of and earns himself a blue-eyed scowl.)

 

Kageyama stops at the convenience store on their way home, ducks inside after telling Kei not to get blown away (though it’s said softer than it was a year ago), and presses a strawberry soda into Kei’s hands.

And it sounds a lot like ‘ _thank you_.’

\---

 

Kei finds himself staying late after practice whenever Kageyama has that look in his eyes: spiking endless tosses until they’re both breathing hard and Kei’s palms are bruised and Kageyama’s face no longer spells desperation, but that dull kind of acceptance that comes when you’ve fought so long and so hard that you’ve forgotten what you’re fighting for.

 

“My dad’s in the hospital,” Kageyama says one night, when they’re sitting on the hill in the park between their houses. It’s the spring at the end of their second year and he’s only become _‘Tobio’_ in Kei’s thoughts: a secret familiarity that he doesn’t know how to label.

“He’s in the hospital and my mom blames herself, so she spends every second that she’s not working with him. I haven’t even seen her in weeks. How do I tell her that I’m still here? That I matter, too?”

“You can’t.”

Kei thinks of hushed conversations that become bitter, shouted arguments that make him turn up the volume of his music until all he can hear are warbled love stories layered over guitars. Every morning shows purple bruises under his eyes because sleep is difficult when he's burying his head under his pillow to block out broken dishes and ‘ _I never loved you_.’

“We can’t tell them anything. We just have to wait.”

“For what?”

“To be free.”

 

\---

 

It’s May when Kageyama’s father passes away.

Kei finds Kageyama on their hill, head buried in his knees, and shakes his shoulder until he stirs and looks up with exhausted eyes.

“Am I free now, Kei?”

Kei lets Kageyama cry himself half-way to sleep against his chest.

Kei holds him until night hides the ugly red of his face and the moon turns shiny-wet tear tracks into comet tails down his cheeks.

Kei twists their fingers together and doesn’t let go until pre-dawn makes the world grey and Kageyama slumps down until his head lies heavy in Kei’s lap. He cards his fingers through soft black hair and watches the sunrise and knows that _'Kageyama'_ should have been _‘Tobio’_ for a long time.

 

\---

 

When home is too much they find each other there, on that hill. They lie on wet grass while Tobio traces constellations in the sky and Kei studies the way star-shine makes sad blue eyes seem beautiful.

(Tobio falls asleep to the hush of summer winds and Kei brushes calloused fingertips against his lips and wishes July would never end.)

 

\---

 

August brings Akiteru home, and with him a new onslaught of shouted disappointment.

One-too-many sleepless nights turns Kei’s normally-harmless jabs into harsh, judgmental insults that end up bringing a first-year to tears. Tobio drags him out of the gym after muttering apologies and bowing to the coaching staff.

Tobio takes him to a small blue house at the end of a badly-lit street: a gate with peeling paint leading to an overgrown yard, no car parked outside. Tobio fumbles for his keys and doesn’t say a word as they step into a dark, cramped foyer.

Tobio pushes a change of clothes into his arms and shows him how the finicky shower dial works.

Kei reemerges in sweatpants rolled up to the knee; cleans his glasses on a dark-blue, too-short t-shirt. He finds the television playing a cooking show to an empty living room, and Tobio in the kitchen, squinting at a calculus textbook.

“I like the background noise. Like, the voices, y’know?”

“Not really…I tend to try to drown out voices at home.”

“I made you cup noodles.”

 

Kei crawls into pale-blue sheets and listens to Tobio’s breathing and the soft scratch of pencil on paper; he feels a breeze from the open window play in his hair, already carrying the promise of their last autumn.

He falls asleep wondering if everything about Tobio is blue.

 

\---

 

They’re not quite touching, but close enough that Kei can feel the faint warmth of Tobio’s skin from arms clad in nothing more than a thin jogging jacket. Shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee on the side of their hill overlooking the town they’ve decided they’ll only call _‘home’_ for a few more months.

It’s warm for October, leaves scattered like sunbursts across damp grass, but the anticipatory chill of winter in the wind stirs the trees and the hair that’s grown out over Tobio’s brow. Kei remembers the jilted, juvenile bangs of their first year of high school and swallows a smile. Tobio grew out his hair and grew out of his jaded personality, and Kei followed as best he could.

Tobio turns those high-tide eyes on him, brow creased in a tiny frown that Kei wants to smooth with a brushing of his fingers (because he finds peace in Tobio’s smile, when he once found satisfaction in his scowl).

“Are they fighting again?”

“When are they not?”

“Do you want to stay over tonight?”

“No, it’s fine. Show me more constellations.”

_‘Stay here with me. Just for a little while longer.’_

 


End file.
